


4 AM

by powderblew



Series: sunny days and indigo nights [14]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, BAMF Haruno Sakura, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Haruno Sakura-centric, Jealousy, Smut, The Trifecta, commissioned for inkteller, drinking sake w ino because that's what bffs are for, kakashi is just tired of them, lol, non-massacre, they are just idiots honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:53:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24206245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/powderblew/pseuds/powderblew
Summary: He learned to love her the way she needs. —Shisui/Sakura
Relationships: Haruno Sakura & Uchiha Shisui, Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Shisui
Series: sunny days and indigo nights [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1686139
Comments: 13
Kudos: 233





	4 AM

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inkteller](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkteller/gifts).



There’s something bittersweet about the way he looks at her. As if he’s hovering, lingering, but never quite touching. Shisui stares at her with something akin to a kunai, sharp and slight, but unyielding and intense all the same.

“What do you think about that, Sakura-chan?” Kakashi prods her with a quirk of his eyebrow, faint and unseeing from his headband.

“Think about what?” she blinks, brows furrowing and arms crossing. It’s not like she’s always in the ANBU HQ, but there are days when Kakashi likes to introduce her to the people he works with – it’s a subtle way of telling her to take the exams – as if she doesn’t know them already.

“A double date,”

Sakura stares at him, “With who?”

“Why Sasuke, of course,” he’s still smiling.

She snorts, “No thanks.”

“Is there something wrong with my brother, Sakura-san?” Itachi frowns at that.

“Oh, yes,” Sakura scoffs and grabs her cup of tea, “Lots of things, but let’s start with the fact that he has a problem with authority.”

Genma shoots Itachi a look, “She has a point there, Itachi.”

“I wouldn’t be able to talk to him without wanting to strangle him,” she makes her point with a sip of hot jasmine, “And besides, he’s dating Ayame-chan.”

“Teuchi’s girl?” Shisui raises his brows at that.

“Tou-san will not be happy with that,” Itachi sighs.

Sakura smiles, knowing damn well that the chaos she’s just unleashed, “You didn’t hear that from me.”

.

“I don’t know,” Sakura tries not to look like she’s affected by the constant jabbering, she makes it a point to deliberately twist her chopsticks in her yakisoba and look at her book. She doesn't like the way she can feel Naruto and Sasuke staring at her, that judgy-almost scrutinizing look. She's fine and she's going to pretend that everything is fine, just so they can stop _looking_ at her.

“I don’t know how Shisui knows I’m dating Ayame,” Sasuke groans and throws himself on her couch. Then he shoves Naruto off the seat closest to the pillow, “He’s been acting all strange since he started dating Anzu-an.”

“He’s dating— _what_? He’s dating?” she blinks suddenly, her fingers falter on the grip of her chopsticks and she glances at him with wide eyes.

“I thought the two of you were close?” Naruto scowls at Sasuke, but looks at her with concern, “They’ve been dating for almost three months?”

“Oh,” she replies softly, there’s a pit in her stomach that she can’t seem to smooth, “I didn’t know.”

Sasuke whirls his head to look at Naruto, “We met her at least five times, are you telling me you haven’t—you haven’t met her?”

Sakura shrugs and turns back her attention to her book.

Her yakisoba lay there, untouched.

.

“Anzu-san, hm?” Sakura starts off casually – as casually as she possibly could considering the fact that her heart is twisting in the depths of her chest – and scribbles something on her clipboard, wanting to seem blasé about the entire situation.

Shisui startles at that, “How do you—”

“Sasuke,” Sakura answers without looking at him, her eyes don’t leave her chart, “He was complaining about how his father lectured him about Ayame-chan,” then she glances up with emerald embers, “Especially after I told the lot of you in confidence.”

Shisui winces at that, “It…sort of came up?”

“Right,” she says sarcastically, “Then, I sort of have to give you a vaccine that you don’t need unless you’re traveling to Ame. But precautions, you know?”

“Sakura,” he starts off slowly, nervously, “Listen, I didn’t mean to leave you out or not tell you. You know how much you mean—”

“—but you did,” Sakura shrugs, and her smile is as cold as the air conditioning in the hospital, “Now, bend over.”

.

“You’re mad at Shisui, aren’t you?” Sasuke swings his leg over her kitchen window, steals a riceball, and takes a seat at the stool underneath her counter.

“Now why would you think that?”

“He said you gave him the Ame vaccine,” Sasuke tells her after a moment and chews on his riceball.

“He’s been keeping secrets,” Sakura reveals with a frown.

“So have you,” he retorts back evenly.

“Just ask it Sasuke,” Sakura sighs with exasperation, “I’m not in the mood for games.”

“Why have you been so irritated with him since you found out he’s been dating Anzu-san?” he inquires boldly.

She stares at him, a hole in the heart and fire at her fingers. Her smile doesn’t come as easily as she demands it to, it’s a manic sort of thing. Twitching at the edges and it doesn’t reach her eyes. She puts her knife back on the cutting board and gives him a look that is both terrifying and unreadable.

“Are you going to make me say it?” Sakura asks, but it wavers on the length of a shriek and a laugh.

_Hysterical._

Sasuke just looks at her and sighs, “No.”

.

“Here,” Ino gives her a shot of sake, “It’s hot, so it won’t taste like shit.”

“You’ve been drinking with Shino, I see,” Sakura lifts the white marble dome of a cup in the air in greeting and downs it in one go, “I remember we went drinking once and he started spouting crap about the body and melon grass.”

“Melon grass?”

“Wild grass?” she shrugs, “Things got a bit hazy after we started drinking flavored drinks.”

“It’s the cocktails that really fuck you up,” Ino makes a noise of agreement, “So, I talked to Sasuke.”

“You _talk_ to Sasuke?” Sakura snorts with surprise.

Ino rolls baby blues and pours her another shot, “He says he doesn’t know how to talk to you.”

“Sasuke doesn’t know how to talk to the general population,”

She snickers, “I _know._ That’s why I laughed when he told me.”

Sakura huffs.

“Shisui,” Ino decides to nip it in the mood, the heartbreak etched in her best friend’s eyes is too much for her heart, “I heard. How are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” she admits, and that’s the best way she can articulate her feelings, because Sakura really _doesn’t_ know, “I didn’t mean to like him, it just happened.”

“No one means to do anything, Sakura,” the blonde scoffs and then grabs a bag of chips, “I honestly thought you’d go for Itachi.”

“Clan heir?” Sakura raises her brows incredulously, “Are you _nuts?_ ”

“But have you seen that _hair?_ ” Ino prods until she gets a smile, “I would _die_ to put my hands in there.”

“I have,” Sakura cracks a grin, it’s cheeky but wonderful all the same, “He uses leave-in-conditioner.”

Ino laughs.

.

“I haven’t met her, you know,” Genma throws an arm around her shoulders and dodges her whack of papers, “That Anzu girl.”

“Does _everyone_ know?” Sakura scowls at that, she didn’t want her personal life – infatuation and fixation – to be advertised in broad daylight.

“Anyone with eyes,” he snorts and squeezes her shoulder, “You two are pretty obvious.”

Sakura pauses her note-taking and looks at him, “Two?”

“Shisui is nuts about you, Sakura-chan,” Genma points out matter-of-factly.

She snorts, “Yeah _okay._ ”

“I’m _serious._ You guys used to be so close and then—”

“Then he started dating,” Sakura interjects before she can get her feelings hurt, “And just stopped talking to me,” she pauses at that, “You know without a buffer.”

“Sakura, for someone who Tsunade praises left and right—”

“—Genma did you happen to,” Shisui pauses mid-word and glances at the arm around the medic’s shoulder with barely restrained scrutiny and then inquires almost politely, “Am I interrupting something?”

Genma looks at him curiously, “And if you are?”

Shisui’s jaw tightens and this time, _Sakura_ catches it.

Sea-foam orbs wash into jade and she _wonders._

.

“I can’t stand watching you mope like this,” Kakashi flops onto her bed and she shoots him a glare from her medical journal.

“I am _not_ moping,” Sakura scowls.

The arm behind Kakashi’s head is not casual, even though he wants it to be, it looks uncomfortable and he gives her that lazy-eye side look, “I’ll let you in on a secret.”

“Is it a secret if you tell me?”

Kakashi pokes her underneath her knee, “Shisui is only dating her to get over _you._ ”

Sakura’s heart sputters in her chest and she almost grasps the skin there in fright.

“What?” it’s small, her voice that is, and it’s nothing like her.

“He’s dating her to get over you,” Kakashi repeats himself, it’s gentler this time and more careful. As if he’s speaking to a frightened child rather than his terrifying student.

“But,” Her voice breaks a little, shattering like glass and it smooths over the edges here, “Why?”

Kakashi shrugs, “I don’t know, maybe he thinks he’s out of your league?”

Sakura gapes, “Is he _stupid?”_

“He’s an Uchiha, Sakura. They’re in a league of their own.”

.

“I’m tired of you avoiding me,” Sakura sits in his room, one leg over the windowsill – as if she needs a quick escape – and one leg on the floor.

Shisui stares at her for a moment, “I’m not avoiding you.”

“Don’t lie to me, Shisui,” she narrows green eyes at him and swings her leg over the ledge, “You’ve been avoiding me and I haven’t done anything wrong,” she pauses, “Have I?”

“No,” Shisui shakes his head abruptly, “No you haven’t done anything. I just—”

“—just what?” Sakura bites the inside of her cheeks and waits.

Even it causes her heart to shatter into a thousand pieces.

“Anzu—”

Sakura will rip out her hair if she hears him say that _name_ , right in front of her, as if she’s not affected. She uses shunshin to reach him, her fingers cup his cheek and she squeezes the hollows above the lower row of his teeth. She brings him closer and closer until she catches the flint of smoke that glint off his eyelashes, and the hint of red from the sharingan.

“Stop,” Sakura breathes a whisper and she is surprised to note that his eyes are not a true black, but deep, deep indigo, “Just stop.”

Shisui doesn’t breathe.

She thinks. It’s what she does. The constant contemplation, of never-ending, the incompleteness of what they are, am. The knot in her throat is thick, but her heart, it’s so light. It floats like a downy feather because this is _Shisui_ and he’s so close that she can feel the warmth of him—the wonder and haze that is _him,_ seep into her skin.

She wants to kiss him.

Sakura aches to feel the heat of him against her mouth. She wants to wrap the taste of him, the smell of, the feel him in a blanket and allow herself to drown in the marvel of him.

She doesn’t move.

She doesn’t move because Shisui makes the first move for her.

He kisses her instead.

.

Shisui’s mouth is sweet and hot on hers. It’s numbing and electrifying; two sensations that can never co-exist because their natures are just that unyielding, but for them, it’s a storm of everything and nothing at once. Her fingers drop from the art of his jawline and press against the space of his sternum, she doesn’t pull him nor does she pushes him.

Shisui’s hands wrap around the back of her neck and he kisses her deeper—so deep that she feels her heart stop and start again. Her fingers curl into his shirt and her back arches when he nibbles at the corner of her lips.

Sakura’s gasp is swallowed when she feels his thumb brush the outer corner of her earlobe and she whimpers when his tongue curls against the inner wall of her cheek.

When her knees start to tremble, when she wants to fall apart in his hands is when pulls herself together.

Sakura presses a hand against his chest, fingers splayed against his sternum, and pushes him backward.

She inhales shakily and presses a hand against her chest. She looks at him with glassy eyes and speaks before he can say something stupid, “No.”

Shisui’s swallows thickly.

“No,” Sakura repeats herself and licks the corner of her mouth, “You need to figure out what you want, because I can’t do it for you.”

.

It’s later that day.

When she’s sitting in her living room, fingers scratching, scraping against the rough leather of the broken sofa. She leans her head against the tops of the cushion, toes cold against the wood floor, rubbing circles into the glaze.

She thinks she can’t stop thinking.

She breathes in the wintry air, chilling, her lungs, burning her nose, and coating the brittleness in her bones in frost. Sakura glances at the gray light that seems to catch against the redbrick of her walls with a chestnut overcast.

Shisui stumbles in at two in the morning—broken and drunk.

“What are you doing?” Sakura asks blankly, abruptly, green eyes wincing at the hallway light outside her door.

“You,” Shisui says, he walks up to her, his movements sharp, direct, with purpose.

Sakura raises her eyebrows, tilting her body away from the couch, watching him with weariness. She replies half-joking, half-serious, because there are too many questions and not enough simplicity running through her veins, “Normally, you’re welcome in my apartment, but considering the time—”

Shisui grabs her shoulders, she freezes at the suddenness of his movements, eyes locking onto his hands before momentarily sliding up to watch the soft features of Shisui’s facial structure, trying to see if there is anything— _anything_ there for her to _see._ To know. To _understand._

His hands glide up her collarbones and then back down to grab her hips. He walks slowly, backing her up until her knees hit the edge of the couch. She stumbles backward and the rough leather rubs the backs of her thighs.

His mouth hot on hers.

Shisui kisses Sakura with enough heat to melt her bones and enough detail to have thoughts dissolve into clouds.

His fingers run meadows and twist roses into her hair. Blunt nails scraping against her scalp, her mouth opens involuntary at the bone-shaking action, causing him to slip his tongue into her mouth, running laps against the pearl of her teeth, flicking brushstrokes against velvet, and not even then, could she taste any remains of alcohol.

Sakura pulls back to inhale snowstorms, emerald eyes glossing over the black of his irises, she breathes into his mouth, “Shisui, you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I’m not drunk.”

He says that like it makes a difference.

She tries again, “You _still_ don’t know what you’re doing—”

He kisses her again, but this time he pulls her back until she’s standing, nearly toppling over him with unsteady knees.

Shisui kisses her much harder this time, but still, the very same slow, meticulous swipes of his tongue make it impossible for her to breathe. She doesn’t know when she feels her bedsheets slither under her skin, but she gathers the thought in the back of her head when he removes her shirt.

Shisui’s hands are cool against her skin, caressing her breasts, fingers brushing rosebuds until they stiffen into peaks, sending blind shivers down her spine, and melting sparks into flesh. His mouth moves to her neck, blossoms painting onto skin with violet hues and red splatters.

It hurts so _good_ when Shisui mouths kisses onto her chest, her head falls onto the pillow and she whimpers at the slightest wet skims.

His hands are always touching Sakura, rubbing small circles into her skin, torso, his mouth following ever splatter of rain that he leaves on her pores. He snaps her shorts off, underwear falling within seconds and then it’s skin on skin—his clothes _when_ had he shed his clothes?

He kisses her again, hands warming down her thighs, her mind is dizzy with the smell and taste of him. His fingers slide against her heat, parting slick folds, running light brushstrokes against her folds and she squirms with sensitivity as his sucks a flower right beneath her left ear.

Sakura pant, trying to catch her thoughts that are spinning right pass her, “Shisui, you need to stop—”

Her breath turns into a high squeak when his teeth graze her breast.

“Why?” he murmurs when her fingers scratch his back.

As a finger enters, Sakura scrunched her face into one that morphs into something like pain, she gasps as he curls and stretches another digit inside of her.

Shisui’s eyes are like obsidian, deep and black—burning with the same kind of sadness that she sees in the midnight of his irises. Shisui is always gentle with her, careful, always seeking to see the same sort of desire he has in her—from _her._

_Considerate._

“Because I’m not _her,_ ” Sakura suddenly hisses, fire running in her veins, eyes narrowing with a warning and she wants the anger to come back. Just so she has some shred of rationality within the caverns of her mind.

Shisui grabs her by the hair, pulls her into him, teeth grazing the skin of her jaw, his eyes narrow with something she cannot define and he whispers hotly, almost angrily, “I don’t _want_ you to be.”

Sakura doesn’t stop him again.

He kisses her harder and when he enters her, his fingers grasp her thighs, running his thumb soothingly across the prominent veins in her pelvis. She shivers trying to collect herself, but he’s filling up that space inside her, and all that remains is a pleasant ache.

Shisui’s lips press against her earlobe, soft panting, tickling leaves, and brushing moondust into her neck.

Sometimes he stills so she can adjust, sometimes he moves so slow that she has to wiggle her hips just to get the slightest bit of pressure, sometimes he kisses her so lightly that she’s begging for his lips, and sometimes he picks up the pace so randomly it makes her dizzy with colors.

Shisui holds Sakura with both arms and kisses her skin until she falls asleep, with cotton and powder blue. 


End file.
